


The Blue (Wo)Man Group Mission

by memorysdaughter



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Skimmons Week, absolutely ridiculous, canadian sex pills, partially inspired by 2 Broke Girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorysdaughter/pseuds/memorysdaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To infiltrate a HYDRA-run clothing factory, Jemma and Skye go undercover... as a couple.  It's quite possibly a terrible plan.</p><p>Featuring cats, Coulson's fear of balloons, and (for some ungodly reason) the overuse of the phrase "Canadian sex pills."</p><p>Welcome to Skimmons Week 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blue (Wo)Man Group Mission

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for day one is “fake dating/married” and apparently I heard “fake dating/married with a heavy helping of absolutely ridiculous.” How ridiculous? I use the phrase “Canadian sex pills” more than twice. Like, a lot more.
> 
> This was inspired by one of my favorite TV shows, “2 Broke Girls,” and some of the dialogue comes from there.
> 
> This is my first work published here at AO3 but definitely not my last. I look forward to hearing what you think.

“This has to be the  _worst_  idea you’ve  _ever_  had,” Jemma hisses as she and Skye put on gray canvas jumpsuits. “And  _no one_  looks good in gray.”

“You’re forgetting the time I thought it would be a good idea to fill Coulson’s office with balloons,” Skye points out. “Who knew such a strong, dependable man was terrified of balloons?”

She zips up her jumpsuit. “And  _you_  look good in gray.”

“Knock that off,” Jemma orders.

“That’s no way to treat your girlfriend.”

“We are  _not_  dating.”

Skye checks her watch. “For the next three hours, forty-one minutes, we are.”

Jemma yanks at her jumpsuit. “This is the most ridiculous plan I’ve ever heard.”

“Hunter helped me.”

Jemma sighs exasperatedly. “I think that just proved my point.  Also, since when does HYDRA operate a clothing factory in Brooklyn, New York?”

“Since three years ago, according to the manifesto filed with the Better Business Bureau, ironically enough. Here, quit yanking at that thing. Just… readjust the shoulders.”

Skye leans in to fix Jemma’s jumpsuit.  Jemma frowns.

“Stop that,” Skye says. “We’re supposed to like each other.”

“I like you,” Jemma says.

“Yeah, but do you  _like me_ like me?”

“What are we, in primary school?”

“No.  We’re in gray jumpsuits in a HYDRA-occupied clothing factory, about to go in and dye T-shirts and try to locate a shipment of some highly illegal weapons that will be stored in crates of said T-shirts while we pretend we’re happily-dating couple Caroline O’Donnell and Shira Rifkin, an  _actual_  couple who are sleeping off the effects of a night-night gun in a locked storage closet in the basement of this charming facility.” Skye pauses. “God, this really isn’t one of our best plans.”

“On that,  _darling_ , I completely agree.”

* * *

The dye room at Scout’s Honor Clothing smells like poster paint and vinegar, which probably isn’t too far from the truth.  The room is dominated by two large circular metal tubs, the size of generous farm water troughs, piles of white T-shirts, and a row of industrial dryers.  Two women are already at work on the far side of the room, dropping white T-shirts into one of the vats and swirling them around in the blue dye.

Skye moves immediately towards the other tub and drops the first batch of T-shirts into the waiting purple dye.  Jemma stares at the women at the far vat.

“Come on, honey,” Skye says in a low voice. “Stop staring and get to work.  We need the money to support our three cats.”

“Why do we have three cats?” Jemma asks, her voice slightly louder.

“Well, because you brought home the first one after that cute girl at the coffee shop told you a sob story about how she couldn’t keep him any longer…”

“His name is  _Latte_  and he’s the color of coffee and cream.”

“… and then the cat belonging nudist couple who live below us had eight kittens and you said, and I quote, ‘Oh, Shira, they’re just  _gorgeous_ ,’” Skye goes on, doing her terrible British accent.

“They keep each other company while we’re at work!” Jemma protests. “And why did you have to name them after characters from that terrible crime show?”

“Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler are an  _adorable_  couple who deserved much better than what the  _SVU_  writers gave them!”

“Hey!” one of the other women yells out in a strong Brooklyn accent. “Youse two mind keeping it down? Can’t even hear ourselves think over your lovers’ spat.”

“I know, right?” the second woman agrees. “Hey, wait, Janice – how do ya know they’re a couple?”

“Yeah, good point, Rosita,” the first woman grunts. “I mean, look at ‘em.  Clearly not lesbians.”

“I know, right?”

Skye resists the urge to face-palm.  Instead she straightens up. “I’m so sorry we disturbed you,” she says, as sincerely as possible. “And we  _are_  dating.”

“Just keep tellin’ yourself that,” Janice says. “It’s obvious you ain’t a couple.”

“Why?” Jemma asks, sounding so affronted that Skye smiles. “We don’t look like lesbians?”

“No,” Janice says. “You’re not hot enough.”

“I know, right?” Rosita puts in.

“Not hot enough!” Jemma stands up, her hands on her hips, dripping purple dye onto her jumpsuit.

Janice furrows her brow. “Yeah, you heard me!”

“This woman is the hottest person I know – and I’ve met George Clooney!” Jemma snaps. “You insult my girlfriend again and I’ll show you why I was voted sneakiest fighter in my karate class!”

“Ooh, a karate class,” Janice says, and rolls her eyes. “From what, when you was eight?”

“I know, right?” Rosita chimes in.

“That’s it!” Jemma growls, and before Skye can stop her, she lunges towards Janice and shoves the much larger woman.

“Oh, it’s on!” Janice barks, and she shoves Jemma in return.

“Honey!” Skye says loudly. “Honey, you’re getting carried away!”

Janice takes advantage of the fact that Jemma’s caught off-guard and scoops the smaller woman up.

“And now you’re  _literally_  getting carried away,” Skye mutters.

“Listen, you bitch,” Janice says, “we ain’t interested in whatever it is you’re sellin’!  We’ve been workin’ here for three years and Rosita here is desperately in love with Raoul the night security guard – we’re not buyin’ any more of those Canadian sex pills!”

Skye can’t help it – she starts giggling. “ _What?”_

Janice freezes. “You mean you ain’t here to sell Canadian sex pills?”

“No,” Skye says, barely able to stop laughing long enough to get the word out. “Jesus, first you don’t believe we’re a couple and now you think we’re selling Canadian sex pills?”

“Honey?” Jemma squeaks. “Could you maybe get me down from here first?”

“You think this is funny?!” Janice demands. “Our best friend Constance bought some of them Canadian sex pills and now she’s in sex rehab!”

Skye collapses on the floor laughing.

“That’s it!” Janice growls, and she swings Jemma around.

Jemma’s body whacks into Rosita’s; Janice’s feet slip on some of the spilled dye.  For a moment there’s absolute pandemonium – yelling, shrieking, and Skye still laughing – and it’s followed by a loud  _splash_  as Jemma and Rosita tip into the vat of blue dye.

After that there’s mostly silence, except for the two women now covered in blue dye spluttering and gasping.

Janice hauls Rosita out of the vat.  Skye tries to do the same with Jemma but she isn’t strong enough and Jemma’s too slippery; she leans in to pull Jemma over the side of the tub but ends up falling in herself.  Somehow they manage to tumble out, completely sodden, where they lay on the floor, covered in blue dye.

“I nearly drowned,” Jemma gasps.

“Oh, Caroline,” Skye says gently, leaning in to stroke Jemma’s face. “I think you might have hit your head.”

“I think I need mouth-to-mouth.”

“I know, right?” Rosita moans groggily.

Skye leans in closer and mutters, “You do not, you liar,” but she carefully kisses Jemma on her blue-tinted lips.

Janice looks down at the women on the floor. “Uh, well, huh.  You two surprise me.  Guess you’re a couple.”

“Thank you?” Skye replies. “I guess?”

“Hey, why don’t youse two get outa here,” Janice suggests. “The next shift’s comin’ in early anyways on account’a it’s Latoya’s birthday and they wanna get out early.  Get yourselves cleaned up nice and go have dinner or somethin’.  Or go home to your cats.  Cats need lovin’.”

“I know, right?” Rosita says wistfully.

“That’s very… kind of you,” Skye says, and she helps Jemma off the floor.

They leave the dye room, both dripping blue trails of dye as they go.  In the locker room they peel off their sopping jumpsuits and Skye bursts out laughing again.

“None of this is funny,” Jemma snaps.

“We look like Smurfs,” Skye wheezes.

“ _Oy, Smurfettes_ ,” Hunter pipes up through the coms, “ _Coulson and I found the weapons while you two were playing grab-ass in T-shirt dye.”_

“ _And though Hunter might be extremely crass, he’s telling the truth_ ,” Coulson says. “ _Head to the rendezvous point.”_

* * *

It takes two weeks for the dye to fully scrub clean from Jemma and Skye’s skin.

It takes only eight days for Hunter to find a website selling Canadian sex pills.

It takes three days with priority shipping for those pills to get to the base.

It takes twenty-eight minutes for Bobbi to discover them, and another sixty-four minutes for Jemma to discover that the Canadian sex pills consist of Viagra, ecstasy, and maple syrup.  The ensuing spat between Hunter and Bobbi lasts seventeen minutes, after which the Canadian sex pills are in the garbage and Hunter is sulking in the briefing room.

It takes a month before Jemma forgives Hunter for his part in creating what’s now being called “The Blue (Wo)Man Group Mission.”

It takes far longer – like, maybe forever – until Skye forgets about how nice it was to kiss Jemma, even if they were soaked head-to-toe in blue dye.


End file.
